Harare Review of Books

288 pages.

First published March 12, 2024 (Pushkin Press)

Memoir.

I read this book in two sittings, many weeks apart—because, well, life. But this is a superbly engaging work that just got better as it went. Although Banine (who died in 1992 aged 86) naturally had some old-fashioned ideas on race, sex (in particular, r*pe!) and sexuality, as expressed in this memoir, *Parisian Days* still manages to delight. Banine was obviously irrepressible, and had firm ideas about how life was to be enjoyed, no matter one’s personal circumstances; her earnestness on this and her truthfulness about her feelings at every point are both engaging and refreshing.

Banine left Azerbaijan and moved to Paris with some members of her family, including her sisters and father, after the Soviet occupation. This memoir is about the early years in Paris, as her family gradually lost their wealth (selling off the family jewels a bit at a time). Banine worked as a model (mannequin) at that time, and lived initially in a servant’s room, until her flashy and amazing cousin arrived from Moscow and swept her up into a new kind of life. Much of the second half of the book is about the firecracker her cousin was (an unashamed gold-digger, and someone born under a supremely lucky star); about Banine’s experiences as a third wheel, and her never-ending jealousy, which peaks when her cousin gets not a comeuppance, but the best kind of “reward” for her shenanigans and plotting.

Two of the best things about Banine’s writing (wonderfully translated by Anne Thompson-Ahmadova) are her wry sense of humour—deployed against others, her situation, and herself, and her sharp wit. One has the sense that Banine’s intellect protected her and provided her with a tool for sense-making in the midst of her obvious dislocation and precarity. She never really makes much of the latter—only talks about the general situation in broad strokes, and focuses on her interior and the events that affected it (like her unfortunate affair with a man she never really liked; and, her cousin). There is a section in the middle of the book that gives a lot of important context for the life of Russian migrants in Paris after the revolution and civil war; however, Banine of course never identified as one of them, even if she was caught up in their milieu. Even when she first moved to Paris, she felt like she was home, and Azerbaijan only the place where she spent her childhood.

Banine is a fascinating character, and all of this translated so well to the pages of this memoir. Very much recommended, as Parisian Days is a most enjoyable and memorable read. Very many thanks to Pushkin Press and to Edelweiss for early access to a DRC.

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